


Call A Marine

by chelztoddbrooke



Category: NCIS
Genre: Cutesy, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-slibbs, Romance, Slibbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelztoddbrooke/pseuds/chelztoddbrooke
Summary: When you need help...call a Marine.How many times can Gibbs teach Jack that lesson?Cute, fluffy, funny. Everything you want in a Slibbs story.
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 13
Kudos: 109





	1. Flat Tire

**Author's Note:**

> So, I recently discovered the Toby Keith "bus song" entitled "Call a Marine" and I couldn't resist the urge to write a Slibbs story about it. I think I might have wavered from the theme a little here and there and I may have at times hit it on the nose a little too hard, but it's a cute story. Enjoy!
> 
> "Call a Marine  
> Instead of 911  
> They're built to improvise, adapt and overcome  
> When you're in knee deep and you're up shit's creek  
> And you've tried everything  
> Tell you what you do  
> Call a Marine!" -- Toby Keith

Gibbs squinted at the car on the shoulder ahead. While the blue mini cooper was not incredibly rare, it was unique. This one seemed to be listing nose down toward the driver’s side. He’d considered driving on until he saw the familiar blonde head poke over the top. He made a noise of disapproval and eased out of traffic. 

He found her on her knees, working her way toward ruining what he assumed were an ungodly expensive pair of cream-colored slacks, putting all of her effort to get her tire iron to turn to no avail.

“Need some help?” he drawled. Jack was on her feet in an instant. He knew if she had her weapon she would have drawn on him. She made an attempt to dislodge the tire iron and wield it, but it held fast to the wheel. “Just me, Jack,” he chuckled, throwing his hands up in surrender.

“On the side of the road in the dark. I could have hit you with this tire iron!” she squawked, willing her heart rate to return to normal.

“If you could get it off the lug nut,” he teased.

“Not my point,” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

“And what exactly is your point, Sloane?” Gibbs asked.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on women trying to change their tires,” she said, poking him in the chest.

“Just seeing if you needed help,” he shrugged.

“I can change a tire, Gibbs. I was in the Army for Christ sake. Everything was going fine until the tire iron got stuck, now I need…” her tirade was cut off abruptly.

“Leverage,” Gibbs acknowledged.

“…what?” her brow furrowed.

“Leverage,” he repeated, reaching into the bed of his truck, and grabbing a length of pipe. He slid it over the end of the tire iron and lifted, easily popping the lug nut. She gaped at him. “Did you want to finish up here, or would you like to get home this evening?”

“Ass.” She snorted. Gibbs chuckled and set to work changing her tire.

“Coulda just called for help,” he mentioned, climbing to his feet and lowering the jack.

“I called roadside assistance, they said it would be over an hour before they got here.” Jack mentioned.

“You never seem to have luck with that,” he noted, earning a scowl from her. “Shoulda called a Marine. Trained to improvise, adapt and overcome,” he scooped up his pipe and leaned it against his shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she deadpanned. He held open her door and motioned for her to get back behind the wheel.

“’Night, Jack,” he smirked, closing the door and walking back towards his truck. He dropped the pipe back in the bed and climbed in the cab. He waited until she was on her way before pulling back into traffic himself.


	2. Down The Stairs

Jack tried to shuffle past the bullpen unnoticed, but was just a beat too slow. 

“Jack…” Gibbs drawled. Instinctively her eyes snapped in his direction. She immediately realized her mistake as she saw the concern flood his expression. It was almost as if his gaze made the bruise on her face throb more painfully. He lurched forward, hand extended. She ducked out of his way.

“My office,” she ground out, hearing familiar voices coming from the back elevator. The last thing she needed was a public exhibition of the impressive shiner around her right eye and the unflattering series of events that lead to said injury. She spun on her heel and headed for the stairs.

She barely had time to set her bag down before he came barreling into her office.

“I’m going to need you to leave the macho act at the door,” she started, throwing a hand up. He drew up short, seemingly affronted. “I just fell down my stairs, there’s no one to kill,” she explained.

Gibbs tilted his head enigmatically. “Fell down the stairs” was usually code for “a man hit me” and her quick protest made him even more suspicious. He stepped forward and hooked a finger under her chin, turning her cheek towards the light. He gently grazed his thumb over the distinct straight line underneath her eye. Perhaps she was telling the truth.

Jack flinched under his touch. This skin around her eye was incredibly tender, but her reaction was more to the look on his face. All of the anger had bled out and gave way to heady mix of concern and affection. She cleared her throat before speaking again.

“I’m serious. The banister gave way and down I went. Put my elbow through the wall and broke my glasses,” She lifted her arm to show him her additional scrapes and bruises. Gibbs moved his hand from her face to her elbow, swallowing thickly at the sight of the raw angry skin from her wrist to nearly her shoulder.

“You see a doctor?” he asked.

“I didn’t lose consciousness,” she shook her head. “And everything else could be handled by some ice and a first aid kit.”

“See Palmer before you leave today,” he requested in a tone that suggested it was anything but a request.

“Gibbs,” Jack protested.

“Or stop by and see Ducky if you prefer,” Gibbs countered, shrugging one shoulder before turning back towards the door.

“Gibbs, I’m fine,” she huffed. “I am more concerned about my stairs and my wall. I need to find someone to fix it.”

He stopped at the door. “ Call a marine, Jack.”

Jack barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, recalling their roadside conversation as she struggled to change her own tire. “You can do drywall?” She knew he was a skilled carpenter, but spackle was a different animal.

“I’ll swing by tonight.” he responded with something that looked suspiciously like a wink. “Go see Palmer,” he called over his shoulder as he finally left her office.

“I’m FINE,” she shouted after him.

* * *

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Gibbs let himself into her house. She was just grateful he hadn’t broken anything else on the way in. When she’d left for work that morning the carnage from her fall had been everywhere. Splintered pieces of banister, clumps of drywall, broken frames, and even blood covered the entryway. It looked more like the staircase exploded, than a human taking a bad fall.

Now, the place was nearly spotless. The wall had been patched, the floor scrubbed and swept, and the banister was currently going back in place. The only evidence of the incident was a neat stack of broken knickknacks on the coffee table.

“Took you long enough,” Gibbs mumbled around the nail in his mouth as he secured part of the railing.

“Apparently,” Jack mused, taking a long look around. “How long have you been here?”

“Hour or so. Wasn’t as bad as it looked,” he shrugged one shoulder.

“Same goes for the injuries. Palmer says I’m fine,” she said with a smug look. That was what kept her so long. Jimmy gave her injuries an overly thorough examination, at Gibbs request, she assumed. She only barely got out of there without the ME sending her for a CT scan.

“Just looking out for ya, Jack,” he started. “Hand me that rag?” he requested, pointing at the piece of fabric a few stairs down from where he was working. Jack obliged, tossing it up to him. He caught it easily, using it to wipe the smudges off the piece of wood in front of him.

“How did you get all this done so fast?” she finally asked.

“Clean up was easy and it didn’t take much to patch the wall. Still need to paint though,” he pointed to the white spot that only a short while ago sported an impressive elbow shaped hole.

“And the banister?” Jack wondered.

“This is just a temporary fix until I can make you some replacement spindles. But it’ll keep ya safe,” Gibbs commented, giving the banister a firm tug, testing his work.

Jack felt herself blush at his inherent concern for her well-being and found herself a little overwhelmed by his generosity. “Gibbs, you’ve done more than enough, I can hire someone for the rest.”

“Don’t leave a job incomplete,” he shook his head.

“Then can I at least pay you?” she suggested, half heartedly, already knowing her would decline.

“Nope,” he replied just as she expected. He jogged down the steps and fished something out of his jeans pocket. “Someone left these on my workbench. Thought they might hold ya over until you got yours fixed,” he smirked, handing her a pair of black glasses she had left at his house accidentally on purpose one night, tired of watching him skin his knuckles stubbornly carving things he couldn’t see. Jack narrowed her eyes at him, but took the glasses anyway. “Now you should be all set. Improvise, adapt and overcome,” he said with a nod. This time Jack did roll her eyes.

“At least stay for dinner?” she asked. If he wouldn’t take actual payment, the least she could do was feed him.

“Watcha cookin?” he arched an eyebrow at her.

“Got some nice steaks,” she offered with a shrug.

“Any more of the single malt?” Gibbs asked.

“I could probably dig some up,” Jack grinned.


	3. Trapped

“So this call a marine thing, it’s not just when I need things fixed is it?” Jack’s anxious voice came over the line.

“What’s up, Jack?” his tone was unexpectedly soft.

“They won’t let me leave,” she bit out.

“Where are you?” He sharpened immediately, straightening in his chair, ready to activate his team if need be.

“I’m at the hospital,” she sighed.

“Jack?” Gibbs felt the spike of adrenaline retreat, giving way to concern.

“Sorry, that was overly dramatic. Let me explain,” she took a deep breath and reeled herself back in. Sometimes her mouth got ahead of her brain. “I have old shoulder injuries, partial rotator cuff tears on both sides left over from my extended vacation in Afghanistan. Every few years they like to toss me in an MRI to see if it’s time for repairs. If I am having a really good day, I can do it without a sedative, but it’s not a really good day."

“And if you get sedated you have to stay,” Gibbs finished for her.

“And they aren’t going to let me leave until I get my MRI or they are going to charge me for it regardless. So I need you to come down here and talk me into getting into this machine, please.”

“On my way.”

* * *

Gibbs found her pacing the radiology suite, barefoot and gowned up. He could see every one of her muscles coiled tight with anxiety. He didn’t dare reach out and touch her for fear her fight for flight instincts would kick in and he’d be on his ass before he could blink. Not that he couldn’t best her in a fair fight, but this fight would hardly be fair.

“Jack?” he called for her attention instead. Her head snapped up.

“Hey,” she mumbled around the finger pressed against her lips, her teeth worrying at the nail. “They’re getting impatient,” she gestured towards a door that read “STAFF ONLY”.

“I can get you out of here,” he offered with a smirk. He wouldn’t even need to flash his badge, a leveled glare would likely do the trick. She would be home free and probably bill free if he really put his energy into it.

Jack managed a small smile. “Unfortunately, that just means I would have to come back another day,” she sighed and returned to her pacing. “It’s just new here. I knew the staff in California. They were used my claustrophobia…er…my cleithrophobia,” Jack corrected herself. Gibbs arched an eyebrow at her. “Fear of being trapped,” she explained. He nodded. That made sense. Jack was very careful to never get herself boxed in. An MRI had to be her own personal hell.

“How can I help?” he asked.

“Stay on the mic?” she suggested.

“They’ll let me do that?”

“I think at this point they’d let you hold my hand if it wouldn’t compromise your health or the test,” she snorted. “They’re about done with this song and dance number.”

“Jacqueline?” A radiology tech’s head popped out from behind the closed door. “Oh good, your friend is here,” she commented, her eyes landed on Gibbs. “Think we can get started now?” 

Jack and Gibbs shared a glance. Finally she nodded. “Yeah, ok, as long as you put him on the mic,” she requested.

“We can do that,” the woman smiled, but her eyes belayed her exasperation. “Sir, you come with me. Jacqueline, you go right through that door and my colleague will help you into the machine.” She gestured towards a door covered with all kinds of sings warnings about magnetic fields and tests in progress. She gave one backwards glance at Gibbs before grasping the door handle.

“Improvise, Adapt, Overcome,” he said with a nod. For some reason that brought a small smile to her lips. She nodded in return and entered the room.

* * *

Jack started to panic as the machine closed in around her, her whole body began to shake. From the viewing room, Gibbs could see her irritation, her bare foot tapping the air incessantly. He clipped on the headset he’d been given. He had an idea.

“Jack…” Gibbs voice came out of the speaker near her head. “Take a deep breath and close your eyes.” She did as she was told, willing her body to relax.

Gibbs waited until her body stilled to continue. “Did I ever tell you about the time we buried our CO’s tires in the sand?”

The following thirty minutes seems to fly by as she listen to story after story of Gibbs’ marine days, letting his calm voice carry her away from the MRI machine. It was more information than he would have offered up in any other situation, but he knew it would keep her distracted, so for that she was eternally grateful.

* * *

He was waiting for her when she emerged from the changing room, back in her street clothes. Her expression was sheepish.

“Thank you, I know that was a lot of trouble for a thirty minute test,” she admitted.

“Worth it, Jack,” he shrugged, a smile playing at his lips. She took a beat to interpret all he said and didn’t say with those three words. Finally she smiled and hooked her arms through his.

“Come on, Gunny. Let me buy you lunch,” she said, tugging him towards the door.


	4. Girls Night Out

“Gibbs,” he answered gruffly. He sat up on the couch and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

“Uh, Agent Gibbs. Sorry to call you so late. This is Izzy,” the unfamiliar voice on the other end started.

“Izzy?” The name wasn’t familiar.

“Agent Solane’s friend? I helped on the case with the wheel well stowaways? We didn’t really get to meet…you…”Izzy rambled.

“What can I do for you _Izzy_?” he cut her off. He remembered Jack mentioning her, said she was nothing but trouble.

“I’m actually calling about Jack. She needs a ride.” The woman let out.

“She ok?” his stomach sank, and his voice turned cold.

“She’s fine. She’s just had a lot of tequila. Girls Night Out got out of hand. I tried to call her a cab, but she told me to call a marine. Said you would know what that meant,” the woman explained.

“Gimme the address, I’ll be right there,” he replied quickly.

* * *

“Gibbsss…” Jack slurred when his truck rolled up to the curb outside the chic Georgetown bar.

“Oh thank God,” a dark haired woman, who was doing her best to prop up the blonde, sighed.

“Izzy?” Gibbs assumed.

“The one and only,” she grinned.

“See Iz…I said call a marine…and you called a marine…and here he is…” Jack rambled, gesturing wildly and nearly sending herself to the ground in the process. Gibbs instinctively shot an arm out and scooped the inebriated woman against his side. “Mmm, you smell good,” she giggled, burying her face against his neck.

“How many did she have?” he wondered, trying to ignore the feel of her face so close to his.

“Well, two margaritas and four shots,” Izzy provided, counting on her fingers to be sure. Gibbs brow furrowed. He’d seen Jack clear half a fifth of whiskey with little consequence. “On a empty stomach,” the woman added, sensing his skepticism. He nodded. That made more sense.

“Do you need a ride?” he offered.

“No, I live in the building across the street,” she gestured to the luxury condos.

“Ok, I’ll get her home,” he promised, reaching back to extract Jack’s hand from the pocket of his jeans. “Thanks for calling.”

“Night Jackie Jack,” Izzy called before stepping off the curb and jogged towards her building. Gibbs kept an eye on her until she was safely inside.

“Night Izzy!” Jack replied, delayed and far too loud for the quiet street. “Nothing but trouble, that one…” she commented, tilting her head back in an attempt to meet Gibbs’ eyes and nearly toppling backwards.

“Clearly,” Gibbs snorted, tightening his hold on her and cajoling her towards the truck.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said with a lazy grin as he helped her into the passenger seat.

“Glad to be here, Jack,” he chuckled, fighting with her seatbelt. About the third time he felt her fingers run through his hair, he gave up and went around to the driver’s side.

As he pulled away from the curb, Jack slid into the middle of the bench seat, her head falling to his shoulder.

“Call a marine and a marine shows up,” she giggled to herself, halfway asleep. Gibbs breathed a laugh of his own, shaking his head.

* * *

Jack shuffled into the kitchen, desperate for a cup of coffee. Some heavenly being set her coffee maker the night before, and there was a pot ready and waiting. The only hint of her savior was a note next to a bottle of water and two pain killers that simply said: CALL A MARINE. Gibbs familiar phone number was scrawled below it. She groped for her phone on the counter and dialed him up.

“How you feeling, Sloane?” his voice came over the line.

“Terrible,” she groaned.

“Tequila will do that to ya,” he chuckled.

“Says the man who considers whiskey a food group,” Jack retorted.

“It’s all about moderation,” Gibbs quipped.

“A little too late for that lesson,” she whined, earning herself another soft laugh.

“Take the pills and drink some water. I’ll check on you later,” he instructed. Jack made some noise of assent. “ And Jack?”

“What?” her sigh was nothing short of exasperated. He laughed again.

“Thanks for calling.”

“Today or last night?” Jack asked, knowing she didn’t exactly make the call the night before, but it was her idea.

“Both. Like to know you’re safe,” he admitted, ending the call before she could reply. 


	5. Distance

“Jack.” Gibbs answered as her name came across the screen.

“Hey Cowboy,” she rasped, both words laden with exhaustion.

“Long day?” he asked.

“The longest,” she groaned. She was currently TAD at Newport and had been for the last two weeks. Vance volunteered her services to the officer candidate school for a four-week profiling and team dynamics course.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” She sighed.

Gibbs waited a beat, knowing she’d tell him anyway. “I mean they’re bright students, but they have so many questions. And it’s not just during class, they find me in my office and while I’m eating. I think they’d follow me back to my hotel if I gave them half a chance.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Jack dodging inquisitive ensigns.

“Use a lot of words for not wanting to talk about it,” he teased.

“I could hang up,” she retorted.

“You called me, Jack,” Gibbs reminded.

“I’ve been away so long, I’ve almost forgotten how clever you are,” she deadpanned.

“Been gone awhile,” he noted. What he really wanted to say was how he felt every second of her fourteen days away stretched out between them, making him ache in places he thought long dead. But he wasn’t one to offer up the kind of vulnerability.

“Ya miss me?”she tossed it out there, hoping for some kind of reaction.

“Not like you to ask a question you don’t know the answer to,” he answered vaguely. It wasn’t exactly what Jack was looking for but it was closer than she expected. She decided to use it to her advantage. She did call for a reason.

“I know, I’m off my game. Lonely here.”

“I thought you had all those officers following you around,” he bit out, chiding himself for even conjuring the idea of some ensign giving her more than appropriate attention.

“Not the same. I miss the team,” she groused. “ _You_.” She added a beat later, almost under her breath.

“You want company, Jack?” He asked abruptly.

“I...what?” She stammered.

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, of course I do, but...” he cut her off.

“I’ll call you back.”

Jack was left staring at her phone, the familiar sound of his flipping shut echoing through the hotel room.

“Call a marine and a marine hangs up on you. Just wanted to hear his voice,” she grumbled.

* * *

Gibbs rapped his knuckles on the door. It wasn’t quite late enough to be considered indecent, but it was getting there. Not that he really cared.

“Someone call a marine?” He smirked when she finally opened the door.

“Jet—“ she breathed, blinking at him. He eased past her and shut the door, leaning back against it.

“Guess that explains where this ran off to,” he mentioned, tugging on the arm of his red USMC hoodie that had suspiciously disappeared the same time she left town. He hooked two fingers into the pocket and tugged her closer.

“You’re here,” she said finally, bringing her hands up to his shoulders to catch herself as he pulled her off balance.

“Told you I was coming,” he chuckled as his lips brushed against her cheek. She pulled a face. He was not wrong. He’d called her back and asked for the hotel name and her room number and said he was on his way. She only half believed him, assuming he would get no further than the end of his driveway before catching a case and even that half wasn’t expecting him until morning.

“But you got here so fast,” she remarked, sliding her hands into the short hairs as the base of his skull.

“Got friends...” he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “With helicopters.”

Her head fell back as she let out a wholehearted laugh. Of course he came on a helicopter. He threaded a hand through her messy curls and pulled in for a fierce kiss. “Missed you,” he finally said what he couldn’t over the phone. Her heart nearly burst at the sound of it. Feelings between them were implied not declared.

“Missed you too.” She breathed, folding herself against him. For as much of her life she spent alone, she hadn’t known loneliness like that she felt over that last two weeks in ages.

* * *

Jack rolled over, colliding with a solid mass. Her heartbeat ticked up for a moment as she got her bearings. _Gibbs._

“Just me, Jack,” he murmured as if reading her internal turmoil. He shifted around her, slotting their bodies back together as she settled back down. She hummed contentedly as his lips brushed across her neck. She reveled in the fact that he was actually there. Arrived in Newport from DC via helicopter. All because she called saying she wanted company.

Call a marine. She could hear his wry voice saying it. The thought made her chuckle. She called a marine and he in turn called another to get to her.

“What?” He grunted.

“I could get used to this call a marine service,” she replied.

“Been trying time get you used to it for six months, Jack.” His breath ghosted across her ear, sending a shiver up her spine.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep trying,” she rolling over in his hold, finding his ice blue eyes in the dim light,

“Improvise, adapt, and overcome,” he quirked an eyebrow at her before ducking his head to capture her lips.


End file.
